Rival Territory
by Fallende
Summary: The Axis and the Allies are 2 rival gangs in a crowded city, and the tensions between them are high. That is, until Gilbert, a member of the Axis, meets Matthew, one of the Allies.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:// **Yo readers. T'sup? So, I'm going to attempt a chapter story. Because this idea just popped into my head, and it just kept on going and going and going and there was no way I was going to make this a one-shot. I'm going to warn you now, the last few times I've tried writing a chapter story, I never finished them. Just because I forgot about them or lost interest or got busy or something stupid. But, I've got everything already planned out for this, so hopefully that will eliminate my problem. Plus, I'm going to write 1 chapter ahead, so when chapter 2 comes out chapter 3 will have just been finished, and so forth. Chapter 2 is already done. So anyways, read at your own risk. And if you do, please enjoy. Rated T for mild violence and swearing. Lots of swearing.

Rival Territory

_Fucker_, was the first word that went through Gilbert Beilschmidt's mind as a fist collided hard with his jaw. _What the fuck, this stupid kid thinks he can hit the awesome me?_ He pulled his arm back and shoved it sharply forward, effectively driving it into the boy's ribs. Good, the fucker was winded. He hit the kid again in the temple as he was going down, just for goood measure. _Who the fuck does this kid think he is?_

There was no way this kid was as awesome as him, just because he had a good punch. And no, Gilbert was not being a hypocrite. Because Gilbert was sure he was awesome, and there was no doubt about that. This kid had simply gotten lucky.

Now the kid was down, his face connected with the wet concrete. The albino took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Bad idea- the alleyway smelled strongly of garbage and sweat. It wasn't very appealing, and he scrunched up his nose. The kid's eyes connected with his. They were awfully blue, disgustingly so. His own red eyes glared back.

"Alright, you brat." He started, reaching into his pocket. He dug around a little, trying to find the firmiliar cool metal that he'd often touched before. "You're the one who's been causing all this trouble, right?" Oh yes, he'd found it, clenched his fist around it, swiftly took it out of his jacket. Good, the kid hadn't seen it yet.

Before the kid had a chance to respond to his question, a sharp blade connected with his neck. The kid gasped, his throat getting dangerously closer to the metal in the process. His blue eyes widened, fear evident in his easily-readable face. Gilbert's blood pounded - he loved it when his victims freaked out.

"Wouldn't it be easier for me if I just took you out now?" He whispered huskily into the blonde's ear. "Wouldn't it be good for my brother, if you were to just _die_?"

Gilbert would never admit that what happened next was entirely his own fault. A drop of rain splattered harshly against his forhead, and he turned his eyes up just for a second to take a look upwards. That was all the kid needed, and quickly he elbowed the albino in the lungs, staggering the taller man backwards. The knife left his neck for a breif moment, and the blue-eyed boy took this as his chance to run away.

"What the-", Gilbert started, his arms instinctively winding himself around his stomach. Taking a breath of air, he looked up. "FUCK!" He near screamed, getting roughly to his feet, staggering a little, before starting to give chase.

It was dark, but the kid didn't exactly have light footsteps. Gilbert wound his way through some more alleys, following the obvious sound of the leader of the rival gang. Did the idiot seriously think he could get away? Gilbert had been doing this gang thing for years, this kid was a newbie. And there was no way the silver-haired man would let the blonde escape.

It was effectively pouring rain now, and on top of the darkness it was hard to make out the form of his little brother. Usually, his brother's hair was slicked back out of his face, but now, the rain had caused it to cascade down his forhead. Well, it looked sort of attractive. Or rather, it would, if Gilbert was a girl. And not the kid's older brother. The blonde was boxing with another Allied member, a tall, pale blonde man with a scarf around his neck. Hell if Gilbert knew why that man looked so firmiliar, but right now, he really didn't give a shit. That shitty Allied leader was getting away. With a quick, "you get him!" thrown over his shoulder, Gilbert continued in the direction of the now fading footsteps.

A half a mintue later, and he'd found the blonde again. The back of the youth's head was now covered in blood, and he was leaning heavily on the wall while still trying to run. Gilbert smirked to himself. Oh _kami_, (as Kiku would say,) he'd torture this kid, and he'd have fun with it.

With a sudden burst of speed, he was directly in front of the boy. The kid's eyes snapped up, staring at his own. The fear seemed clouded this time, but that wouldn't deter Gilbert's attention. The switchblade was still held firmly between his fingers, and as he roughly shoved the kid up flat against the coarse brick wall, he once again pushed it into the adolescent's throat.

If the _very un-manly_ squeak hadn't caught Gilbert off gaurd, then the off-purple eyes boring into his own red ones did. Suddenly, he realized, this was a very different minor. The child's hair was slightly longer, slightly lighter, slightly more wavy. _Oh fuck._ Gilbert thought, his hand shifting on the kid's neck just a bit. _Who the hell is this?_ But, as he was scanning over the kid's obviously different frame, he noticed the rival gang's badge stuck to the blonde's shoulders. _At least I can still kill him._

"I can still kill you." He spoke softly. The boy was very confused at this, but very still very frightened. A light somewhere far away flashed, and he got a quick glince of the albino man's red eyes. His own purple ones started to roll backwards.

"Don't faint on me!" Gilbert hissed, shaking the boy's shoulder with his extra hand. When the purple eyes reconected with his own, he squeezed his hand tighter. "It would be one less problem for me if I were to just kill you now." He continued.

But _shit_, he was hesitating. Why was he hesitating? Why was he sitting there, stalling time and explaining the situation to this kid? It wasn't like this was the first person he had killed! In the previous gang he'd headed in another town, he'd killed several unlucky people. And with the same knife too. So why was this kid, this strikingly beautiful young boy, causing him to stutter his movements?

When the kid opened his mouth to speak, a pale hand squeezed his shoulder harder. "Don't." The albino said, cutting the kid off. His eyes never broke from the ones beneath him. "I..." he tried, backing off a small space. Barely noticable to him, but the boy's eyes were starting to clear over. _Fuck, this kid knows I'm hesitating!_

"_East__!_" He'd heard the nickname for his country called in the distance. He finally lifted his gaze from the boy, and into the direction of the flickering lamp post. It was still raining, and the water was now slipping into his eyes. However, that was his brother's voice. What was happening? Did his little brother need help?

Reluctantly, Gilbert looked again at the boy, who's gaurded eyes were still staring unblinkingly into his. However, the fear was gone, replaced with some form of confusion. "I-" the silver-haired man started again, but, at the sound of his brother's voice calling his name again, cut off. Falteringly, he removed his hands from the boy, whipped around, and stalked towards the sound.

He still felt the eyes of the boy on his back as he walked away.

**AN:// **Alright, so there's chapter 1 for 'ya! Hopefully it was ok. Just to clarify some things: There are 2 gangs, the Allies and the Axis, in a large oceanside city. Each member has a country name for an alias, however Germany calls Prussia 'East' (and likewise Prussia calls Germany 'West'). I think it's obvious who's on what side. The reason why they're fighting in this chapter is yet to be told. Anyways, please review with kind words, constructive criticism, or anything else you have to offer. It'll help keep me going. 'Till next time (if there will be one) folks!


	2. Chapter 2

"So I hit the guy in the gut, right-"

"Al, I have no idea what you're-"

"And Arthur's trying to tell me that was a stupid thing to do! Stupid old man-"

"Alfred-"

"-Doesn't understand a thing. I mean-"

"No seriously, Alfred-"

"-This guy's got-"

"Slow down!"

"-A knife to my throat, right?" Finally, the darker haired blonde took a stop for breath. Matthew took this as his chance to butt in.

"Alfred, please don't talk so fast, I can't keep up with you. Say it slower." He deadpanned at the exasperated look his brother sent him. Really, _Alfred _was the one feeling exasperated right now?

"Ok, so I'm fighting this member from the Axis. You following me still?" It was Matt's turn to deadpan. He nodded dejectedly at his brother, who then continued. "The guy brings a knife to my throat. And Arthur's trying to tell me I shouldn't fight him off, and instead try to reason with him."

Matt thought slowly on this. He'd been in the same predicament only last night, and he imagined that if he had tried to push the red-eyed man away, things would only end worse. _Bad thought._ He did his best to surpress the shudder attempting to force it's way down his body. "Al," he started, "maybe Arthur's right."

Alfred seemed appalled. "What?" Scratch that, he was appalled. "You're siding with caterpillar brows? He's trying to ground me! I'm too old to be grounded - and I'm the leader here!"

Matt took a deep breath, because really, trying to reason with his brother was like trying to reason with a rock. "Well, maybe you deserve it." His brother was about to retort, but Matthew continued again quickly, "I mean, you did overreact yesterday."

"But they were trying to touch-"

"No, Al." Matt caught the gaze of his brother, staring him down with the utmost amount of seriousness. "It doesn't matter. He's not one of our own."

"I don't give a crap!" Alfred yelled this, and Matthew winced. Why did his brother insist on being so loud? "You think we can just let those damn Axis get away with new recruits?"

"It's not our business what the Axis do, Al." Seriously, why was he still trying? "We should be avoiding fights with them, not starting them!"

When Alfred pulled out his pouting face, Matt gave up on reasoning. If he looked into that face, he'd lose the fight. He wasn't about to let himself lose the fight. So he left it at that, spinning around on his heels and stomping out the bedroom door.

Once he'd made sure the front door was locked, (his brother insisted it- it didn't matter how tough Al could be, he was still afraid of ghosts), his feet automatically led him down the steps of the front porch, and into the direction of the beach. He sighed, and walked for a couple of minutes in silence. Really, Al was so incompetent. The idiot had almost died yesterday, and, now that he thought about it, almost got Matt himself killed yesterday as well. He remembered the look of shock that had passed through the crimson eyes the second they had met with his own purple ones, and he remembered the same knife Alfred had mentioned at his throat. The red eyed man had even said _'I can still kill you'_ as if he wasn't supposed to be. It only made sense that he'd thought Matt was someone else. And really, people confused him for Alfred all the time. They weren't even twins!

After resurfacing from the drowning of these thoughts, Matt realized how much headway he'd made towards the beach. The air smelled saltier, and it stung his eyes a little bit more with each step he took. He could hear the rhythm of the waves pounding on the beach, and he felt his shoulders relax. Waves were always the most soothing sound for frayed nerves. He closed his eyes, listening to the harmonic sounds of the waves slapping sand, driftwood, seaweed, and his argument with Alfred seemed as insignificant as the dust in his eyelashes...

Soon he was walking with sand under his feet. It was a slightly cloudy day, and the sun was currently covered by a puffy spot of water vapor. This relieved Matt- his light skin burned rather easily. He was a lot more used to the cold, and even after a year of living here he still wasn't used to this beach. Something else relieved him too- the cloudiness had left the strand relatively uncrowded. Matthew didn't like crowds.

He breathed in deeply and selected his favorite spot right beside a patch of tall grass. It was near the back of the area, so he wasn't hit by the spray of the ocean. He set himself down on the soft sand, scanning the beach for something to entertain himself with.

He found his target quickly. A silver haired man was not too far off, throwing out bits of his lunch to some ravenous seagulls. He had a sharp cut face, thin yet handsome, and the silver mess atop his head jutted out in random directions. The expression his his face was one telling, 'I can jump off a bridge and not think about what I'd done until I've hit the bottom'. The current setting satisfied the guy, and his lips quirked upwards when one of the gulls caught some bread in it's mouth before it had even touched the ground. The other gulls squawked loudly at this.

The more Matthew stared, the more he realized how odd the man looked. Most of his body was covered, wearing pants and a hoodie, (Matthew found this strange, it was probably higher than 85 degrees outside) and the few parts that were exposed showed deathly pale skin, even paler that Matthew's own. So the man was albino?

Matt got to his feet and approached the newly-discovered albino. Once he was within accurate distance, he tapped the man on the shoulder.

When he turned around, Matthew couldn't stop the gasp. Red eyes scruitinized him slowly. _Oh no,_ Matthew thought, _I'm dead. Goodbye Alfred, I'm sorry I made you cry all those times..._

However, when the albino did nothing (rather than continue to stare), Matt brought himself to a tentative realization. _Maybe... it's not the same guy. I'm sure there are several red eyed men in this city... and he's not wearing the Axis badge... and anyone who feeds birds can't belong to a gang... _He was reminded rather obnoxiously of himself.

"Um... d-do I... know you from anywhere?" The blonde asked quietly. He flinched when the man turned the rest of his body to face Matthew fully.

"I..." The man tilted his head to the side, and Matt thought that maybe a small bit of recognition was trying to be hidden. "Maybe?"

A tuft of yellow suddenly popped out of the man's head, and Matthew couldn't stop his giggles. "Y-you've got a bird on your head, eh." He stated once he could breathe. Said bird chirped loudly and stretched it's wings, before prodding silver hair with it's feet.

The albino brightened, bringing his hands to his head and scooping the bird up. "Oh, that's just Gilbird!" He said, "He's my awesome pet. Almost as awesome as I am. He's named after me, of course. I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Matthew giggled again, his short exhales high and musical. "Narcisistical, are we?" The man smirked. "I'm Matthew Williams." He continued, holding out his hand to Gilbert.

"Awesome." Did the man not have any other adjectives in his arsenal? "I'll call you Mattie." Gilbert then shifted Gilbird over to one hand, and bent down to tear off a small peice of his bread. He put it in Matthew's already outstretched hand. "Here, you can feed him." Matt took it giddily, and placed the crumb in the canary's face. It pecked softly at his hand, and the wavy haired kid smiled. Gilbert smiled back.

They then proceeded to sit down, chatting about life in general. Every once in a while, Gilbert would hand Matt a small peice of the sandwhich he was eating, and Matt would break it up and toss it out. Matt had to admit, Gilbert was a very interesting person. He had much to say about his life - cities he'd lived in, people he'd met, pictures he'd took. The blonde couldn't think of a single thing he'd done that could even compare to Gilbert's life of excitement.

Finally, some time later when the sun was climbing downards, Gilbert spoke up again. "You know, I think I do remember you from somewhere."

Matthew froze. "Y-you do?"

Gilbert rose an eyebrow at him. "Uh...", he was thinking for a second, "yeah. I think we were kids together way back when."

After overcoming the shock of the situation, Matthew found himself giggling. He didn't know why Gilbert was making him giggle so much. Maybe it was because the silver messy hair was it's own bird's nest. "Well yeah, of course we were, eh." He said with a roll of his eyes.

Gilbert laughed. Matthew found that he liked hearing Gilbert laugh. "No, I mean like... friends."

"Oh." Matthew said airly, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. It didn't really matter if they were friends in the past.

But Gilbert continued: "I hope," he paused, "if we meet again... it's not under the wrong circumstances."

**AN:// **BAM, and just like that, the plot starts. By the way, Matt and Alfred's conversation is supposed to be confusing. Blah, making long chapters is not something I'm good at, I'm sorry but they'll all probably be this short, maybe shorter. I even revised this after I posted chapter 1, trying to make it longer. I succeeded in maybe... 4 or 5 lines? Ack. So anyways, please review please! And no, I did not just type please twice. Or rather, 3 times. Oh, and I forgot this last chapter: **Disclaimer: **Hetalia was not, and never will be, mine. Sadly. DX


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:// **I'm issuing a _**warning**_ in advance: I plan to make this chapter with Sadistic!Gilbert. Which means the violence in this will be a lot more graphic than in chapter 1.... if I do this right. Hopefully I will. You'll be okay if you choose not to read this chapter. Just remember guys: Cheddar Chex mix is a bag of interesting. **Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers, nor do I own cheddar chex mix. Well, I do, actually. They're right downstairs. But the company isn't mine.

"_Westen_, you're not thinking straight about this." Gilbert sighed, looking into his brother's eyes. "This is potentially suicidal-- for them."

"Well, _Östen_, what the hell do you want me to do?" Ludwig hissed angirly at his brother. Gilbert usually was the one who didn't think, so why was he criticising the blonde when it usually worked for _him_? "They come and attack us out of nowhere, and we had one of their own with us..."

"_Kleiner Bruder_, they're on the defensive, we're on the offsensive."

"That's how you always used to do things." Ludwig reminded him sharply. When his brother looked pensive about this, he slapped him hard across the back of the albino's head. Which caused a strand of blonde hair to fall in front of his eyes. He reached for the hair gel.

Gilbert snatched it away from him. "Ow." He said simply, using his other hand to gently cradle the back of his silver locks. "If that's bleeding, I'm not doing this with you."

"Bruder, I slapped you. I didn't shove a knife in the back of your head." Bad thing to say, now Gilbert was laughing. Crap, he didn't need to be giving Gilbert ideas before the fight was even started. By the Axis. _Shit,_ Gilbert was right, this was a bad idea. But it was too late, the news had already been spread. Both of the Italies, Japan, Austria and Hungary, and the Germans would all be sliding across dangerous ice soon.

* * *

"_Scheiiiiiiiiße!_" Gilbert muttered under his breath. The sun was going down, which meant soon the attack would be starting. "Fucker doesn't even know what the hell he's doing this for.... _Scheiße!_" He could hear his own footfalls hitting the pavement hard. He was doing it on purpose, because _God damn_ he was pissed. _Stupid West never listens to me when I try to help him for once..._ He thought angirly, letting out a puff of breath. Letting out his anger was gonna feel great.

The sky was starting to turn pink and orange, casting long shadows on the palm fronds above his head. Alright, it was time. Quickly, he rushed over the border, sprinting into the enemy territory. He could feel his blood pumping already.

Now to find his unlucky target. He snapped his head around every which direction, his eyes icing over every corner of the crowded street. Nope, he couldn't find a single badge, time to turn the corner. This time he found someone rather quickly: a short blonde man with huge, very bushy eyebrows. Instantly Gilbert was angry, because he really wanted to cut those off. _Really badly._ Oh, and just his luck, the guy had an Ally badge! He pushed his way down the cobbled street, earning several angry remarks from the people he'd hit. He paid no attention, and stealthily he fisted his fingers in the sleeve of his t-shirt, covering up the symbol. He jerked the man away from the crowd, hearing a 'hey!', but he didn't stop dragging until he'd got the blonde far away from the bustling streets.

The sun must have been playing weird tricks with the _awesome_ look of his face, because when he turned the face, the man didn't seem to have any recollection of who Gilbert was. Gilbert smirked, that made it all the more confusing for his victim. Which meant more fun. _Sucks to be him_.

He hit the guy square in the cheekbone, his arm a blur. Quickly he flashed out again, in the other direction, hitting the guy in the opposite place. The man grunted, keeping his face to the ground incase Gilbert wanted to hit again. But no, Gilbert decided, this would be too easy if the guy didn't fight back. Better to give him a chance.

Eventally the man's face came up, and his green eyes instantly locked with Gilbert's Axis badge. His eyes widened in an _oh fuck_ kind of manner, and quickly he brought one of his hands up to his chest. Good, the blonde would be accepting this fight. His mouth opened. "What the hell do you think you're doing in this part of town?" Caterpillar Brows asked, malice in his voice.

"My brother gave the order." Gilbert replied simply, striking out to hit the man again. The short man dodged this, and retaliated the same way. Gilbert was winded instantly when the punch connected with his lungs. He coughed once, stumbling backwards. But much to the shortie's chagrin, Gilbert was smiling.

"You're arm is hurt." He stated, removing a hand from his stomach and pointing to Brow's arm. It was in a heavy blue sling, obviously that limb was out of commision. However, Gilbert's words had angered the blonde, whose cropped hair flew back in the breeze as he lunged forward towards Gilbert once again. Quickly, Gilbert grabbed the outstretched fist, twisting it around the man's back. Once he was rendered immobile, Gilbert shoved his face roughly against a nearby building, seeing the blood seep off as his face cut sharply into cement. Suddenly feeling very excited, Gilbert reached into his pocket yet again, still using his other hand to trap the blonde's hand behind his back.

When he found his switchblade, he extracted it quickly. It flipped open and clicked into place. Without thinking much about what he wanted to do, the albino shoved the object horizontally into the man's shoulder. The blonde cried out when it went in, deep. However, Gilbert couldn't just leave it in there, could he? If he did, not only would he be out of his favorite knife, but there would be no blood! And Gilbert _really_ wanted to see this guy's blood. He wondered, _Is it as thick as this man's eyebrows?_

The knife made a barely audible squelching sound as it dislodged itself from muscle, and the sound was brashly covered up by Caterpillar Brow's cry of pain. "Bloody _fucking hell!"_ The man yelled, and Gilbert knew immediately which Allied member this was. There was only one country that could be given to fit that accent.

"I thought this might be you, England." Gilbert whispered in the blonde's ear, expertly twirling his now-free knife inbetween his fingers. Arthur grunted beaneath him, in obvious pain. Gilbert didn't blame him- he'd be hurting if the position was switched.

He felt the man breathe in like he was about to be talking, so the albino quickly cut Arthur off. He took his knife, pushing it halfway in to the previous stab wound, and slashed it down. There was now a perpendicular cut running down the man's arm, and the blood was flowing out graciously. And quick. _Fuck,_ Gilbert thought suddenly, _emo's do this for a quick and painless death. I can't make this quick... or painless. _But so much blood was flowing out of the wound, trickling down the man's arm and designing beautiful patterens of sparkling red.

After admiring the view, Gilbert ripped off the edge of the man's other sleeve and tied it tightly around the cut. The patterns were still forming now, but they were results from previous blood, nothing new. Now, the sticky substance was dripping off Arthur's fingernails, forming a small puddle on the ground below the man's limp-hanging arm. Gilbert smirked triumphantly, picking up the blonde's hand and letting a small bit drop into his mouth.

"I know who you are." Arthur's voice was deep and gritty, formed from the gurgling of his throat pressed harshly against the wall. "You were in another city once a while ago, leading the Teutonic Knights. But then they kicked you out - their own leader!" He spat this last part out, but the spit didn't travel far before it smashed against the stone. "Why were you kicked out?"

Really, what a stupid thing to be asking at a time like this. Gilbert laughed manically, throwing his head back and tighting his grip on both the knife and the blonde's wrist. "_Mein Gott_, are we playing 20 questions? I thought we were playing murder!" He continued laughing for a moment longer, but once that died down, he decided to humor Brows. After all, he'd be dead soon. "You want to know, huh? Well, they were scared of me. Of the things I did to people. They weren't just scared - they were terrified!" Once again, Gilbert found himself laughing. In between breaths, he contined, "You- should'a seen their face- when I- killed that stupid- traitor. They were- disgusted,- and scared for- their lives!"

Arthur was breathing very heavily while his mind soaked in this information. "Fine, whatever." He said gallantly, pretending the information didn't frighten him in the least. "Just tell me what you're doing on Allied territory."

Suddenly growing serious, Arthur freaked a little when Gilbert's laughed died down. "I'll tell you, but it'll cost 'ya." He bargained.

"Hit me." Arthur said, once again feigning bravery.

Gilbert laughed. "I'm not gonna hit you, _Scheißkopf_. But, we're here because_ Westen _is pissed off at what you did a couple days ago." He was laughing a little bit again. "For once, he's not thinking. We're here because _Kleiner Deutschland _wants revenge!"

Brow's groaned audibly. "Yep, that's it." The albino confirmed Arhur's suspicion, and now his blood red eyes with dancing with amusement. "I've always wondered something, blondie." Gilbert continued, more than ready to dish out the punishment. "Blood's mostly got oxygen in it, but it also carries water." He pulled a lighter out of his pocket. "So I can't quite figure it out. And now it's my turn to ask you a question." He flipped the cap to the lighter open. "Do you think blood is combustible?"

And before Arthur could even think about answering the question, Gilbert had ignited his arm.

The bright light and the smell of burning flesh smothered the alleyway, and Gilbert's conscience was flooded over with excitement. He fell backwards onto the old stone wall that Brows had just desperately pushed himself off of, his eyes staring in awe as the flames licked away at Arthur's skin.

"You've gotta smother the flame!" Gilbert cried to Arthur, who was desperately patting and fanning away. "Go run to the beach and bury it in sand, that'll make your arm and it's cuts all better!" He was laughing yet again, the high pitched sounds of screaming and hysterics drowning out everything else in the world.

Until they both recognized a firmiliar, quiet young voice. And then Arthur was running towards the sound of footsteps, screaming, "Canada, help me, Matthew!"

Disappointed, Gilbert realized this as his chance to ditch.

**AN:// **Oh god, I think I had a little too much fun writing that last part. Seriously. When theres a chainsaw buzzing around you and people are greedily knocking down trees, it makes writing stuff like that pretty easy. But seriously though, I think that this deforestation is the like... 5th thing that's been making this day suck for me. D= Anyways, all German in this chapter was translated by me. I'm an ametuer (1 1/2 years of classes), so if you see something that's wrong, please say so. Anyways, there's the chapter for 'ya. I'm sure some of you didn't enjoy it all that much, but hopefully a few of you did. If anyone thinks I should up the rating, say so. I'll change it. However, this will be the only chapter with sadistic!Gilbert in it (unless there's popular demand for more). By the way, Gilbert doesn't know Arthur's real name. Just that's it's England.


	4. Chapter 4

The Kirkland-Bonefoy house was currently packed with Allied members, all worrying over the safety of their second-in-command, Arthur. Said blonde man was currently sitting in a wooden chair in the kitchen, which was beautiflly carved into the shape of a lion. A very timid Matthew was looming over his shoulder, tending carefully to the wound.

Matt tightly wrapped the last of the gauze around Arthur's arm and tied it off. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" He asked the older blonde, who currently had his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"It's not a problem." Arthur said through closed teeth, though from the look of it, Matthew knew it very well was. Arthur was lucky he'd narrowly avoided a third degree burn. If Matt hadn't heard Arthur screaming and gotten into that alleyway when he did, the poor man probably wouldn't have an arm right now. If he'd even been left alive.

"So, who did this to you, anyways?" The wavy, younger blonde asked, his voice even quieter than normal.

Arthur turned his head away, refusing to look at Matthew when he answered. "Prussia." He said simply, as if that could bring an end to the conversation.

Confused, Matt racked his brain for who that might be. He really had no idea, but there was only one person he could think of sick enough to _light someone on fire_. "Did he have peircing red eyes?" Matt asked, circling his fingers around his eyes for ennunciation.

"Yeah." Arthur refused to look.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"Yeah. Go on your little date - have fun. Alfred can take care of me."

Matthew looked over to where his brother was across the kitchen. Alfred currently sat devouring a hamburger, as if the sight of Arthur's scorched and blistered shoulder hadn't phased his eating habits one bit. Matt felt like gagging. "Ahh, well..." He looked once again in Arthur's direction, who was now strecthing backwards and trying to crack his back. Matt sighed, they weren't sitting down for that long! "I'll have my cell phone on. Just call me if you need anything."

Arthur waved his hands in dismissal, and Matt took his leave. Though he doubted Arthur would remember who he was supposed to be calling.

Suddenly he remembered what Arthur had said. _Whoa!_ His mind reeled. _Where'd he get the date idea from?_

_

* * *

_

Matthew had agreed to meet Gilbert at the beach. However, it was Saturday, and that meant it was going to be crowded. With little children splashing and running and screaming. Or women in obnoxiously little bikini's that they _obviously_ don't belong in. (Contrary to popular belief, Matt was not into 'phat' chicks. He just happened to like Katyusha, who happened to have large breasts.) Or super buff men, none of which had ever recognized that he was there. He wasn't really looking forward to this.

He trudged down the pavement on the way to his horrifying destination. His mind was swimming with these thoughts, but moreso than that, it was swimming with Gilbert. They had agreed before they'd left on the day they first met that they'd be meeting again soon, and Gilbert had sent him a text saying today was the day. (How the albino had gotten his number Matthew would never know.) Supposedly, they were meeting up on the sand, then going to some small cafe at the edge of town. Which, as he now realized, sounded a lot like a date. _Oh shoot_, he thought (because his vocabulary was a lot cleaner than Gilbert's), _Arthur thinks this is a date, I'm starting to think this is a date, Gilbert probably thinks this is a date too._

_ Holy shit, _ok, his mind had slipped, _we're going on a date_.

His eyes widened and he finally tore his the purple hues away from his feet. He'd already made it to the beach. The sand was hot under his feet, and he stepped quickly in order to avoid the exposure. He hadn't realized he'd forgotten his shoes. Oh well, Gilbert was some ways away hitting on a girl with long brown, almost blonde, hair. She was beautiful in her own way, and he tried to ignore the bit of jealousy that arose when Gilbert affectionately ruffled her head. He sighed heavily. _Oh well, at least it's not a date._ Unless Gilbert was into both. Then it very well could be a date. God, he was really getting sick of the 'd' word.

And then, to Matthew's surprise, Katyusha had somehow showed up from nowhere. She was running along the edge of the tide, her eyes sparkling and tearing up as she caught sight of Matthew. And Matthew couldn't help but think of how _gorgeous_ she looked in her medium blue one-piece bathing suit, which definately prounounced her- _erhrm_- well- her bust. He blushed madly, scolding himself for ever thinking like that.

"Matveeeeeeeeey!" Ukraine was crying, her feet pounding relentlessly on the sand as she ran over to tackle him into a hug. Matt dodged at the last second, afraid of her death grip (and her chest). Because last time he had hugged her, he'd almost suffocated. He really didn't want to be suffocated right now.

The situation had caught the sight of Gilbert, who had non-chalantly walked over with the brown haired girl at his heels. "Awesome!" His outburst startled the blonde boy, who was simultaneously attacked from behind from an overenthusiastic Ukrainian girl. "Birdie's got a girl!" Whoa, Gilbert had another nickname for him? Hadn't they already decided on 'Mattie'? "Too bad though, this is a guy's day out!" Now he was patting Matthew rather hard on the shoulder, while Matt was desperately trying to detach the arms coiled around his waist.

Gilbert's words seemed to perk up the young girl who _wasn't_ choking him right now, and she produced a camera which Matt was _pretty sure_ she hadn't had before. And her eyes had this evil glint and... whoa, creepy. Matt had a sinking feeling him and Gilbert would be stalked.

On a date.

But, at least Katyusha had detached herself from him, and was now hanging on to the certain arm of a certain brunette with a certain camera. Maybe he could count on his long time, busty friend to keep the stalker away. They could have fun sun tanning themselves on the sand, or whatever the heck teenage girls did at the beach together.

"Have fun here, Katyusha, um...." Matt gestured vaguely towards the unknown woman.

"That's the frying pan weildin--" She abruptly smacked Gilbert across the back of the head, which made Matthew giggle. He was pretty sure he'd never giggled so much around one person in his life, but in all honesty, he was feeling truly happy.

"I'm Elizaveta Hedevary. Nice to meet you, _Birdie_." She was smirking, and shifting her camera to the hand which was currently being turned blue. He smiled sincerely at her, trying vainly to ignore that scary look on her face.

Then, much to Matthew's horror, she reached out. With her other hand, she promptly took both of Matthew's, pulling them up directly to her nose, and peered over them. Her geen eyes were now boring directly into Matthew's soul, or so it felt. "Please," She started, "Teach Gilbert some manners. You seem like a good boy." She broke the stare to look again at her camera. "Oh, and when you kiss..." Oh holy hell, Matthew blushed madly, this was getting really awkward. "...Send me some pictures."

**AN:// **Ok, so there was actually supposed to be a lot more happening in this chapter, but I've only covered 2 bullets out of 6, and these were the short ones. So, I'm splitting this chapter up, I think. Well, it means you'll be getting the an update sooner~~ I think I should probably know what teenage girls do together on a beach, but in all seriousness, I've really only ever gone with my brothers. And we mess around in the water and crap. Anyways, **Disclaimer: **I own nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

"Sorry Elizaveta's such a freak." Gilbert spoke up as soon as they were off the beach. They'd been dragging their feet in awkward silence for the last few mintues, and now that they were out of earshot, they could actually talk. Without a freaky homo lover hot on their trail. Matthew sighed heavily, deeply relieved she was still sitting on the sand. He really hoped he stayed there.

"No, it's..." Matthew couldn't really think of words, his brain was too scrambled up right now.

However, Gilbert simply laughed it off, covering up the uncomfort of the situation with a 'leave it to Eliza to fuck up moments.' They were headed to a cafe not far from their current location, unluckily for him it was on Axis territory. He'd just have to hope he didn't get caught. Subconciously, he tugged at his sleeve where his badge would be.

_Aww fuck_, he'd forgotten to take it off before the date. Shit, he was screwed, he was so screwed.

Gilbert's eyes shifted in his direction, and his eyes widened considerably. For a second he seemed at loss for words, his mouth hanging open and closing like a fish. After several failed attempts, Gilbert stuttered out, "Y-you're an Ally?"

Well, if Matt's life wasn't over before, it sure as hell was now. _There goes this friendship._ He gulped, covering up the badge on his shoulder with his hand. "Err... well... _eh..._"

Though, much to Matthew's surprise, the silver haired man next to him was laughing. Hard. Really freaking hard. He was bent at the knees, his arms holding himself up for support as he tried not to fall over. "I- you- you're the last person who could _possibly_ be in a gang!" Matthew took offense to this, he really did. Like a lot of other people before him, Matthew was sure, he smacked Gilbert upside the back of the head. Well, he could thank Elizaveta for one thing.

"It's my brothers!" He said, exasperatedly throwing his hands in the air. "They're always calling me out on things! They think that because I play hockey and have muscles from it, I'm automatically some super-strength fighting god!" Gilbert was still laughing, only now he'd given up on strength and was holding himself up by a rusted over lamp pole. Matt would have to remind him to wash his hands before he ate.

"Wow, that's the lamest thing I've ever heard!" Matt wasn't sure if he was talking about his brothers dragging him into fights, or if it was about the whole 'super-strength fighting god' thing. It was probably the latter.

"Well, it's not my fault my step brother's an idiot!" The blonde knew he was going off now on an angry rant, but he honestly couldn't care less. "I mean, I don't think we look that alike, and he nearly got me killed the other day because he's so reckless and never thinks..."

Gilbert cut him off before Matt could continue any further. Really, if Alfred had been in the immediate vicinity he'd probably be crying pretty soon. "Whoa, step brother? I thought that raucous kid was your twin."

Anger flashed breifly in Matthew's eyes and he took a deep breath to calm himself. Everyone in town knew Alfred, it was impossible not to. And everyone thought they were twins the first time they met Matthew. "No, Alfred's older brother is married to my older brother." He explained slowly. Gilbert rose an eyebrow at him, and Matt heaved a sigh. Really, did he have to explain this furthur? "Yes, they're gay. My brother, Francis Bonefoy, has a man lover, Arthur Kirkland." After a quick moments thought, he added, "Don't tell Elizaveta."

"Oh, of course." Was all Gilbert said, and they immediately looked away from each other and dropped the subject. They walked for a little while longer, and soon the pink tiles of Matthew's favorite cafe could be seen. Matthew was stunned. When he'd first come here, in the month before the Axis had started the war, Matthew had frequented this place. They had pancakes and coffee to die for, and everyone knew it. How had Gilbert known he'd love this place? He must have mentioned it the other day. He skipped happily towards the place and Gilbert followed behind, shaking his head but similing widely at Matthew's strange behavior. "So, is this place truly as awesome as you claim it to be?" Gilbert asked, and Matthew simply stared at him dumbfounded.

"Are you kidding me!" He exclaimed, though it really wasn't that loud. Matthew was generally a quiet person, sometimes Gilbert had to strain his ears to hear the boy. "Haven't you ever had their pancakes?" A waitress showed up as they walked through the doors and ushered them over to a windowside seat. They sat down and looked over the menu's, (not that Matt really had too), and both ordered when the waitress came around again. Gilbert had taken coffee and a turkey sandwhich, and Matthew had gotten, of course, pancakes.

Suddenly Gilbert had flung his face to press against the window, pointing his finger accusingly at something outside. "Whoa, dude, what's that polar bear doing out there?" Gilbird popped his head out at this exact moment, chirping in confusion and curiosity. Matt didn't even need to look to know that the animal was his. Really, who else in the middle of a tropical city would own such a pet?

"Kumakucha!" Matthew exclaimed, opening up the window next to him. The bear climbed inside and sat on his lap. Gilbert sat across from the master and his pet, gaping wide.

"Really Matt, you're surprising me like crazy today."

The bear looked up at him now, tilting it's head to the side as it asked it's usual "Who?" Matt replied to this with mock hurt, whispering, "Canada!" to the bear. It didn't seem to recall, but as far as the bear seemed to be concerned, it was in a cafe. Those usually meant food.

"Holy shit man, and it talks!"

Matt finally looked up from the white fur (which he was now absentmindedly stratching on the neck) and turned to Gilbert. "Um, yeah. Kumawachi can do that, for some reason or another."

"I thought it's name was Kumakucha."

"No, it's Kumabaro."

"..." Once again, they dropped the subject. The silence this time was rather uncomfortable, and they both shifted slightly in their seats. Excited to pop the bubble, Gilbert brought up the next thing that was on his mind. "Hey dude, I remembered something!" He exclaimed when the table next to them was served some chocolate sundaes. "Remember when we were kids, I brought you that ice cream?"

Matt looked at him, generally confused. However, not wanting to be rude, he replied, "Um... refresh my memory?"

Gilbert seemed to be lost in the memory now, his eyes were focused on something different and he had a content smile on his face. "We were in a park with Antonio," Matthew didn't quite know who Antonio was, "And we all had ice cream. It was awesome and sunny, and we were standing in the shade eating." He put a hand across the table, grabbing a napkin and a pen and inking a poorly drawn tree. He put down 3 X's, which Matt assumed were supposed to be them. "Only then Antonio tripped you, and you fell down the hill." He drew a hill and a loopy line down it. Matt visibly winced, and Gilbert caught sight of it. He tossed the pen down and put his arms accusedly in the air. "Don't worry, I beat him up for you." He was smiling widely now, and Matthew found himself smilling too. Really, Gilbert had beat someone up for him? "And then you went home sniffling about being covered in ice cream, so I came over and gave you some more."

Not really knowing what to say for the third time that day, Matthew looked down at the table. He was still smiling, though a blush of embarrasment had crossed over his cheeks and he didn't want Gilbert to see. They were both silent for a little while longer, Gilbert still thinking something over, and Matthew soon found himself tracing over the curving patterens of the oak table.

Finally the waitress came with their food. She set it down at the table, but not without noticing the out of place bear. "Erm, there's no pets allowed inside." Gilbert looked over at her, furrowing his eyebrows. The waitress, stuck in a trance because of the arctic animal, never seemed to notice that he had a yellow fluff burried in his own hair. "Want me to just give this to you in a doggy bag?" She said finally, tearing her eyes off the fur.

"That'd be awesome!" Gilbert exclaimed, pumping his fists wildly in the air. "Come on, Mattie. We'd better get out before we get yelled at!" Matthew stood up to leave, his pet hanging lazily over his arms. "Not that you couldn't take them, you Ally." The silverette continued, waggling his eyebrows. Matt rolled his eyes.

When the waitress came back with their food, they took it and started to walk back to the beach. Gilbert once again was throwing bread crumbs out to begging birds, and Matthew just followed along giggling. Now it was Gilberts turn to surpise Matthew as he found himself uttering the first thing that came to his mind. "You know, I used to be in a gang once, too." He said it like it was no big deal, and Matthew found himself thinking that it wasn't one.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I guess everyone does it when they're naive young teenagers like you." Gilbert planted his hand atop Matthew's head, succeeding in making the boy feel short. Which he wasn't, infact he was almost as tall as the man next to him.

"You're not that much older than me." He scoffed, shaking his head to dislodge the arm. Gilbert hadn't looked over at him once, he was still watching as the birds wildly flapped their wings for food. Gilbert was still happily throwing it out to them. Matt sighed, and contentedly continued to watch him. His purple eyes never strayed from the lithe, yet muscular figure in front of him.

When they finally made it back to the beach, Gilbert finally gave Matthew his attention back. "Thanks for coming out with me today." He said, the awkwardness of saying so written plainly on his face. He was shuffling his feet back and forth, forming thin lines in the grains below his shoes. The blonde couldn't help but wonder what he was so embarrassed about.

But he found out soon enough. Gilbert was suddenly grasping Matthew's chin with a ghost-like finger, pulling it forward and capturing his lips in a long and silent embrace. Matt was surprised at first, but eventually he leaned back into the kiss. It was really sweet, even though Gilbert's lips weren't exactly that soft. Matthew's mind was spinning, sparks flying as he wrapped his arms around the albino's neck.

Somewhere not too far away, a camera flashed.

**AN:/ **Oh man, writing this chapter went really slow for me. Because nothing exciting really happened, except for the kiss (olol, Eliza got her picture!) However, this chapter was important, and it did need to be written. Because some of the stuff in here is going to be mentioned again later. Next chapter will have action in it, I promise, because the main fight is going to start. Anyways, I'm out of cheddar chex mix you guys! Isn't that horrible? I might die, and then you might not get another chapter! ANYWAYS again, Paint it White is coming out in a few weeks, I'm so excited! **Disclaimer: **I own nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few weeks after that passed rather uneventfully for Matthew. Sure, there had been a few gang brawls now and again, but it was nothing big. Arthur's arm was slowly starting to heal (because Matthew was such a great caretaker). Alfred seemed to be unfased by the things going on around them- despite his casted arm, Arthur was getting particularily hit up on, as well as Francis.

However, Matt wasn't worried about this so much either. He'd been spending quite a bit of time now with Gilbert, in fact, he was spending almost every free moment he had. Though they hadn't progressed anywhere romantically (much to Mattie's growing dissappointment- they hadn't kissed again since day 2) but they were great friends now. During school lunches, Matt would eat outside and Gilbert would be waiting for him, always with a sandwhich that he shared with the creatures that flew by. No one on campus seemed bothered by this, and although Matthew couldn't fathom why he couldn't really bring himself to care either.

Sometimes Katyusha would sit with them and coo over the birds that Gilbert seemed to attract like a magnet. However, Elizaveta seemed to be avoiding Matthew as of late. The one time he'd talked with Elizaveta she seemed enthralled with him, or more like his relationship with Gilbert. But he understood her attitude towards him - when he saw her in the hall at school a few days after their meeting, he'd asked to see the camera so he could delete the photo. She'd seemed angered with him, and when she pulled up the picture on her device, he saw a plainly obvoius Allied symbol sewn to his shirt sleeve.

And then he'd realized she was a part of the Axis. However, it seemed as if Elizaveta was really the only one around them who cared about anything.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder, _if Gilbert and her are so close, does that mean there's something he's not telling me?_ But Gilbert seemed not to care that Matthew was a part of the Allies, so even if Gilbert was a member of the Axis, he didn't see why he should care either.

Boy, was he wrong.

* * *

All was quiet in the main branch of the Allied household, the Kirkland-Bonefoy residence. The past few days had remained peaceful between the 2 gangs, there had been absolutely no action going on. This seemed to disturb no one, all of them enjoying the short little break from their activities.

The steady hum of the washing machine could be heard in the room next door as Arthur and Matthew sat in silence, debating over the cards held between their fingers. Matthew could see Arthur was thinking hard about his plan for trade-out. His (huge) eyebrows had a tiny glimmer of sweat over them, and his tongue was stuck out in thought (Alfred would always laugh about that). His hand tentatively reached out, and he took a card from the stack in the middle, closing his eyes and then flipping it over to peer at it quickly. His face lit up.

Gosh, Arthur had a horrible poker face.

"Fold." Matthew said quietly, barely heard over the buzz in the room adjacent.

Arthur made a dissapointed face, obviously displeased that he couldn't squeeze more money out of his younger brother. Ruefully, he slid the poker chips off the edge of the table, mumbling, "And I had 3 of a kind too." Matthew couldn't help but notice that Arthur's mumble was just as loud as his own normal talking voice. _Real sad._ He thought to himself.

And then he and Arhur found themselves 3 feet off their seats, suspended in mid air as Alfred swung open the wooden door behind them with a _BANG_. The dirty blonde was panting heavily in the doorway, his frame bent over in exhaustion.

"Alfred, you bloody gi-" Arthur started, but was cut off rather quickly.

"It's Francis!" Alfred yelled, and suddenly the room was silent. Even the washing machine seemed to be on hold, waiting for an explanation to the situation. "It's the Axis, they've got him! They bound him up and are hostaging him in their house!"

Arthur was off the floor at once, grabbing the nearest thing he could find as a weapon (the wooden kendo stick he'd stolen from Japan), and was already pushing the dirty blonde _not-_twin out of the doorway. "Those fucking arses!" He was yelling now too, and the rest of the house seemed to erupt in a cacophony along with it.

Quickly trying to avoid a bad situation, Matthew grabbed a hold on Arthur's still good shoulder. "Wait, England!" He yelled / whispered, (he couldn't tell with his own voice) "Let's think about this a second. The Axis expect us to barge in after him, won't they?"

"Who cares!" Alfred threw himself into the conversation.

"Well, I can understand why you don't." Matthew stated, flipping his blonde waves in Alfred's direction. "But Arthur, it's not like you and I to just jump the gun, eh?" Arthur actually seemed pensive about this, his emerald eyes glazed over in deep thought. "We need to think about this. Let's just approach the house quietly, and we'll decide what to do when we get a good look at the advange points of the house, alright?"

Alfred was growing impatient, like always, tapping his foot on the floor and adding to the already noise-destroyed household. "Alright, we'll do that then, Mattie." The firmiliar boy flinched at the similar nickname. "But come on already, let's _go._"

* * *

The house- no, mansion- was way larger than any of them would have thought. The stone building was filled with gigantic windows and two-story doors, and Matt guessed there must have been at least 20 different rooms in the house. At least six of them were probably bedrooms (_who needs 6 bedrooms_?)_. _A wooden veranda wrapped itself around the second story, and small balcony's protruded over those from the third. A beautiful garden speckeld the back yard, dotted in the center with a gazebo and several old benches.

Well, at least the garden gave them cover to sneak in through. Currently, they were wading through the flowers and plants, prickers catching in their jeans and pollen tickling their noses. Matt couldn't help but roll his eyes at the irony of the situation. Really, a gang prancing through a flower garden? Man, if anyone caught them, they'd be suffering through hell for it.

"Shit, you guys, something's caught on my foot!" Said a startled American, and the alarm was off. Speak of the devil.

Germany was on their tail in an instant, charging towards America with determination. However, England would have none of that. Quickly, he leapt in the way, cutting off the bulky man's path and shouting out behind him, "Go on ahead! And let Matthew do the rest of the sneaking!"

Alfred whined, but turned around to run to their left. They were approaching the back of the house now, and broken out of their flowery prison. However, the alarm was still going off, blaring harshly in their ears and leaving a deaf ringing sound inbetween the noises. Matthew outstretched his hand to the similar blonde and they both halted, eyes flickering in all directions.

"Shh, Alfred. Someone else is coming!" Matthew said, putting a finger up to his mouth for emphasis. Alfred did as he was told, and when the noise died down for a breif second, sure enough a distinct rustling of footsteps could be heard. They whipped their heads simultaneously around, and before they knew it, Alfred's feet had been pulled out from under him. Now he was on the ground, with a black haired Asian looking boy standing over him. He held a gun in his hands, and the laser sight left a red dot directly between the down man's forhead.

Matthew gasped and instinctively took a step backwards. His legs hit the metal of a railing, cutting off his path. The material was cool on the back of his exposed legs, and it was doing a good job of slowing down Matthew's now quickly beating heart.

However, he knew Alfred could defend himself. And the other proved this point by quickly lashing out his fist, grabbing the black haired boy's wrist and twisting it so the gun was pointed away. The kid's eyes widened breifly, shocked and soon Alfred was on his feet, flipping the position. He pulled out a rather large looking pistol, pointing it directly at the kid's stomach. He wasn't aiming very well, however when Matthew's purple eyes scanned over the large amount of ammunition his step brother had brought with him, he realized why. So it was a sub-machine gun. Which meant aiming wasn't all that important. It was so like Alfred to pick out a semi-automatic high tech weapon only used by government officals and military members.

And suddenly shells were flying around like crazy, each trying to hit their own target. Alfred had taken his cover around the edge of the brick fence they'd just exited from, and the other found a makeshift place around the corner of the house. They each took turns poking out their heads, searching for a quick and easy shot before firing. Most shots missed, ricocheting off the sides of the rock each was stading behind. Matthew was finding himself ducking every few seconds with his hands over his head, and with a smart decision he hurtled himself over the metal railing blocking his path and ducked under a patio table. For once he was glad for his invisibility.

A scream rung out over the noise of the still flaring alarm, and Matthew's heart skipped a beat. Shit, Alfred had been hit. He looked over and saw his nearly identical brother bent over in pain, his hands desperately trying to cover up a bunch of blood pouring out of his leg. The Asian enemy made his mistake now, and turned his body around the corner to see the damage done.

Quickly realizing his chance, Alfred picked up the gun and abandoned the wound for a second, firing six consecutive shots and effectively hitting his target. The man's body collapsed, falling to the ground in a fountain of blood. He wouldn't die, Matthew realized, but he wouldn't be involved anymore in this fight. Neither would Alfred, who was currently rendered barely mobile. The younger blonde would probably stay on sight because he was stubborn, but he wouldn't be of much use.

Letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Matthew turned towards the house a couple yards away and looked for his way inside.

**AN:// **Hey guys, I've come down with a horrible cold. I've overdosed on 4 different medications and was put in the hospital for a day, so sorry the chapter may have taken longer than you expected. **Disclaimer: **If I owned hetalia, Russia would be my hitman, Canada would be my huggable plushie doll, and Gilbert would be my lover. Sadly, I don't own it.


	7. Chapter 7

Matthew found his way in through an open kitchen window. Inside stood a small brunette, who, upon seeing Matthew climbing through glass, quickly ran under a table whining and begging him to spare his pasta. The blonde sampled the sauce, give the brunette a small smile, and exited through an archway directly opposite the window. The brunete was still crying and hiding by the time he'd walked his way into the next room.

Here appeared to be a large living room, it's ceiling two stories high and it's walls and couches decorated with gold trim. _These Axis are loaded with cash_. He thought grimly, as he walked slowly around the room. There were pictures covering the antique furniture and painting the room with color, but Matthew was reminded of his purpose and tore his eyes off the picture frames. Really, he didn't have time to be snooping into the Axis's personal lives when his brother could be in life threatening danger.

Behind him, the alarm was still going off and Arthur and Alfred were probably still trying to fight their way in. He focused his mind on his task and set down a narrow hallway. There were several doors, some pine wood and others painted glass. His purple eyes darted over to them and he gingerly turned those doorknobs, listening closely before peering into the room. Most were simply empty bedrooms, some appeared to be offices and one was a super deluxe bathroom.

Finding nothing on this level, he pulled a u-turn and, once he was back in the main room, ascended the stair case. Up here was considerably darker, lacking the brightness of the gorgeous chandelier. Instead, the walls were lit up with old, metal and mideval looking light fixtures, each glowing dimly every 20 feet or so. There were several more doors here, each one more decorative than the other. When he poked his eyes into these rooms, he found several things. One was drowning in pictures of the brunette from earlier and his obvious twin (though Matthew had to admit, with his own sibling situation he had to doubt this). Another was splattered in a sticky red substance, which after getting over the horror of the sight, Matthew realized was actually tomato juice. The last contained a large grand piano, and... nothing else.

Matthew hid himself around the corner at the end of the hallway, preparing to take his next right. He could hear faint voices somewhere nearby, and he knew his brother would be down here. This new area was small, and consisted of only 2 doors. Both were wooden and very plain, and both were darkly lit. He pulled out a flashlight he'd brought with him incase he needed to do some snooping (which obviously, he did), and shined it against the paint chipped wall. These weren't plain, however, each covered in hand painted portraits of 2 people. One was of a blonde man, bulky and blue-eyed with slicked back hair. Matt instantly recognized it as the Axis leader, Germany.

The other shocked him so much he had to bend over to pick up his flashlight. Once he had, he shined it back at the picture. Sure enough, a pair of daunting red eyes was staring straight back at him, a playful smirk lining this guy's face. His hair was silver, his skin ghostly pale... infact, he looked extremely firmiliar. Matt tried to convince himself that yeah, all albino's probably looked alike. However, the way the chin pointed sharply was way too similar, and there was a small yellow dot seemed to be added to the painting's head...

It reminded him way too much of Gilbert. _No_. Matthew told himself instantly. _No no no no no_.

The voices were getting louder now, and a bright light flicked on from inside the room directly in front of him. He pressed his ear to the door.

When he heard 2 voices, both of which sounded all too unreal, he gingerly opened the door.

* * *

"Seriously Gilbert, I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind too much if you at least loosened these ropes." Pleaded a desperate Francis. He was practically in tears, wiggling his hands around to give his wrists some space to breathe. He was going to have rope burn - he was going to have rope burn _bad_.

Gilbert was switching open and closed his knife, waching it idly as it clicked into and out of it's sheath. "No, he'll definately kill me. That bastard can choke you with his thumb and pinky finger. I'm almost proud to say I raised him." Gilbert replied non-chalantly, barely taking his eyes off the smoothness of the silver to glance at his captive.

Francis made a little whining noise as his skin brushed rather roughly against the strangling rope. "Come on, we used to be friends!" He continued his plead, hoping the other would turn his eyes towards him for more than 2 seconds so he could try out some puppy eyes. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Nope." The response was immediate. This time, he left his knife open. He grabbed a metal file from the dresser next to him and began to sharpen the edge of the blade. "Not anymore." He said, actually watching the Frenchman for a second while he scraped the knife back and forth across the file. It made a scathy scrathing nosie that made Francis cringe, however it seemed to be music to the albino's ears.

"You used to!" Francis exclaimed, trying to throw his arms up into the air but only managing to bump the chair legs up in the process. "Don't you remember that one time you brought me ice cream?"

Gilbert's incesant straching stopped breifly, as he stared dumbfounded at Francis. He hesitated for a second, slurring a 'y' for a little while while he thought of how he should probably answer. Finally, he said, "Yeah, I remember." His red eyes shifted to lock with the pattern of the carpeted floor.

Francis found this small little weakness and took it to his advantage. "Of course you do, I was at home pouting in my house after Antonio accidentally knocked me down some hill. And then you were all puffy cheeked and were like, 'here, just take the stupid ice cream'!" His eyes were sparkling as he thought of the adorable picture in his head; of a pouting Gilbert. Really, imagining him like that today almost made him burst out in laughter. But his determination not to die won that battle- the silverette was glaring him daggers.

"Yeah I remember!" He spat out quickly, dropping his knife down onto the bedspread he was sitting on. "But I'm not like that anymore." He hissed, stalking over to where Francis was bound. "I'd never give you some stupid dairy treat if you were to ask me for it right now. I'd toss it in your face!" He was laughing now, his seemingly bipolar behavior starting to freak the french man out. Well, more freaked out than he already was. "I like to fight now, see?" Gilbert rambled on, feeling giddy and happy all of a sudden. "I like to hurt people, to kill people. It feels good to know you're ridding the world of all it's problems, you know?"

Francis scooted as far back as the chair would allow him. He wanted to get away from this psycopath and now. "No, I don't know." He said matter of factly, his voice squeaking slightly at the end when Gilbert walked calmly back over to the bed and picked up the switchblade again.

Gilbert was now back to flipping the knife open and closed. "Speaking of getting rid of problems..." He drawled, finally opting to leave the knife open and instead planting it at the base of the stubbled neck. Francis gulped audibly, his eyes drawing downward to watch the movement.

"Oh nonononono, you don't want to do that!" Francis cried, trying futily to scoot even farther back into the wooden seat. Which sadly, refused to go back anymore and simply scooted itself closer to the tall man bent over behind him.

"Kesesesese~~" Gilber laughed, his lithe form shaking slightly as he did so, "But I do, you see? I love doing this!" He pressed the blade closer to the neck, drawing a small sliver of blood out.

Suddenly, a small noise from behind caught both of their attentions, and they both turned their necks to see who was going to be the witness. (Well, Gilbert's neck turned around. Francis kind of ticked it a fraction towards the sound.) Gilbert's crimson eyes suddenly widened and his jaw dropped as he saw who was standing there. Purple eyes connected with his own for what felt the like last time in a lifetime, they're edges brimming over with collecting tears. And he was holding a small black handgun between his constantly clenching and unclenching fingers. Not knowing how to respond to the situation, Gilbert stood there, knife still connected to the glistening skin below him.

Finally one of them decided to speak, his mouth barely opening wide enough for fear of connecting with a shiny silver object just below. "Matthieu, you're here to save me!"

**AN:/ **Because we all know Francis is a coward. I listened to Bullet for my Valentine and Godsmack as I was listening to this, both new CD's. Really, they're good bands to write to. ^^ Congrats to QueenCelestiaxyv, who guessed the whole 'memories were actually Francis' thing in advance. Seriously, my eyes almost bugged out of my head, 'cuz I was like, NICE GUESS. It took all my willpower not to message you saying, HOLY CRAP YOU'RE RIGHT. **Disclaimer: **Hetalia is not mine.

**Hiatus notice: **Hey guys, I'm so sorry about this. I've been getting really sick, I've missed 3 days of school and am about to miss 4, I've been bombarded by tests, homework, projects, and finals... and I just have no time to do anything else other than making up that crap. I haven't even started writing the next chapter yet, and I doubt any more will be up for a few weeks (if I even remember to continue this once summer starts). Again, sorry. I really hope you understand.


	8. Chapter 8

"I thought you said you _used _to be in a gang." Matthew said, his voice calm despite the way his hands were shaking and tears were forming at the corner of his eyes. There was no malice, just simple curiousity. "Back when you used to be a naïve kid. Like me."

Gilbert paused, carefully thinking over his response while his eyes remained locked with the violet ireses before him. With the same calm tone of voice as Matthew, he responsed, "I was. I only help out the Axis when my little brother needs me to."

There was a moment of tense silence, where both of them contemplated their current situation and where this left their relationship. Francis, the third wheel, sat awkwardly in his chair and watched the pair and their unspoken staredown. Finally he asked the question that had been on his mind: "You 2 know each other?"

"Shut up, Francis!" Gilbert turned his head and spat down at him, unhappy that the moment had been interupted.

Matt, whose gun had been slowly drooping in his hands, instantly pointed the weapon towards his albino friend again. Gilbert still had the knife to his brother's throat, and Matthew had to stand up for his family while getting the truth behind Gilbert's betrayal. _Was it a betrayal? _Gilbert didn't seem to be angry with him, now or in the past. He had _known _Matthew was an Ally, and yet he still had treated him like a friend, perhaps more. So he had withheld the truth; it's not like he had used the information to destroy him. Matthew was unsure of what to think at the moment, so instead he asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It didn't matter." Gilbert said, his gaze steadied on Francis and refusing to look in the Canadian's direction.

"You knew I was part of the Allies!" Matthew yelled for once in his life, his voice suddenly desperate and high in pitch. It didn't _matter_? Like hell it mattered! Matthew could feel the tears spilling over in his eyes and knew he was crying. "We're on different sides: you knew this! Didn't it ever occur to you that something like... like _this_ would happen eventually?" Matthew cleared his throat and choked back a sob, while Gilbert remained vehemently silent. His knife never wavered, but the blonde boy's gun did, and he uselessly dropped the hand holding it to the side. Francis gasped. "You should have _told_ me you were an Axis!" Matthew said with one last cry, his other free hand coming up to cradle his face.

Gilbert slowly lowered his knife. Finally tearing his gaze away from it's stationary spot on Francis, he looked to the side and mumbled, "It still doesn't matter."

Francis, no longer being threatened, broke into the conversation. "Of course it matters!" He glared in Gilbert's direction, his voice protective as he said, "You're a sadistic fuck- like hell I'd let you stay around my little Matthieu! And besides that, our gangs want each other dead! Just a few weeks ago Alfred had to kick out Ukraine for being friends with Hungary!" _Ahh_, Matthew thought, _so that explained Elizaveta's advoidance_. Francis, still telling Gilbert off, continued, "What happened to you anyways, Gilbert? Just because your brother started getting violent after your-"

Gilbert instantly snapped forward, his crimson eyes blazing with anger as he violently shoved metal back into Francis's face. "Don't you _dare_ bring my brother into this!" The pale man hissed loudly. Matthew, a few footsteps away, kept his gun lowered. He knew Gilbert was just provoked; he'd come to his senses and lower the knife soon. "I'm the one who kept my mouth shut! My brother's mistakes have _nothing _to do with this - everything's_ my _fault!"

"Alright!" Fracis agreed, the switchblade infront of his eyes causing him to back down. "Your fault. I'm sorry I brought Ludwig up. But come on, after your incident you and Ludwig have both changed-" He was cut off sharply as Gilbert lunged at him. Suddenly an albino hand shot fowards, aiming direcly for the French man's face.

Matthew instantly rose his arm and fired.

The next few instants were overwhelming with sound. The first one Matthew noticed was the sound of Gilbert's knife clattering to the ground. _Oh crap_, Matthew panicked, _he dropped it! _The next thing he heard was the bang of his gun- he'd pulled the trigger milliseconds before the realization of the situation occured to him. After this was a crack as Gilbert's closed fist connected with Francis's jaw, dislocating the bone. Finally, the window behind them shattered from the impact of the bullet. The Canadian shakily let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd sucked in, but thank _God _that bullet had missed.

Gilbert, upon hearing the gunshot and the breaking window, came back to his senses and shot his gaze towards Matthew. Fracis sat stunned and hurt, but quiet. There were a few heartbeats in which Gilbert and Matthew, once again locked in intense gaze, contemplated their opponents next move. Were they serious about this fight, or were they going to let eachother off with a warning?

Next thing either party knew, Alfred burst open the door, effectively bursting the bubble. "Everyone downstairs, now!" He yelled, his hands clutching his injured leg but his façade betraying none of the pain he must be feeling. "Something's happened - it's trouble for you too Prussia!"

Both Matthew and Gilbert looked confused for a second before coming to and bolting down the stairs simultaneously. Francis sadly, was left upstairs, forgotten by all despite his screaming to let him free so he could take part in the discussion.

Downstairs in the spacious living room, seemingly everyone and a few new faces were gathered, all looking hostile or scared. Ivan (an old hockey friend of Matthew's) and Eduard had guns pointed at Arthur, Diego and Gupta. If the fact that 2 of his allies had hostaged their own didn't shock him, Natalia and Katyusha holding guns to both the sobbing Italies did. Lithuania had Hungary restrained, who was struggling furiously while Austria looked at her with disapproval. He and Germany were sat on one couch, with Arthur and Yao sitting directly across, who America limped over to join. A preteen kid was huddled behind Ivan. Japan sat in the corner, breath coming out in heavy gasps. Prussia and Matthew gingerly squeezed into seats next to their respective brothers on the couches, and Matthew instantly locked his gaze on his old Russian teammate. What on earth was going on?

"My comrades" Ivan started, his voice dripping with sugar, "I'm afraid that I'm breaking off from the Allies-" said group gasped, Gilbert and a few other Axis sneered at him. Betrayal was a serious issue, on either side, "-and forming my own gang. You see, I actually would like to see all of you begging for me to save your pathetic lives, so I'm forming the USSR and am going to take _all of you_ out." His eyes swept around and his mouth smirked at Gilbert, who was still sneering at the tall Russian. After his speech and apparently not willing to stay much longer, Ivan flicked one of his guns' towards the door. Instantly 5 of Matthew's former comrades and one shivering little kid took their leave, without a word or a glance backwards.

Alfred, unable to keep his mouth shut, spat angirly after the reatreating coats, "You communist bastards! I should have known not to trust people like _you_." Germany, for his part, kept silent but looked pensive. Unsure of how to proceed, several members from both gangs looked around in a daze, while the leaders of both gangs whispered among their friends.

North Italy, for all his stupidity, was the first to clear the fog plaguing everyone's mind. "So... where does this leave us now? As rival gangs, I mean."

"I'm not sure." Germany grudgingly admitted, raising his eyes to meet with Alfred. They both looked at each other before seeming to come to a conclusion. "For now you all go home. The Axis is calling a temporary truce that I'm sure you Allies will agree to. Get out of our house and stay out of our territory; we'll stay out of yours. Until we figure out how to take care of this USSR, I promise there will be no fighting."

Alfred and England both nodded sagely, and without a word all of the Allies got up. Yao walked over to help his leader walk, and Gupta let Arthur lean on him on the way out.

"Mattie." Gilbert said suddenly, startling Matthew out of his now racing thoughts. He looked over at the silverette, who had a grimace on his face. Ivan had once told Matthew how much he hated a mysterious 'Prussia' during a game of hockey. At the time Matthew had no idea who Prussia was, but now that he did he wondered if the hatred ran both ways. "Go get Francis. Tell him the terms. We're letting you go." Germany shot a questioning look at his older brother but said nothing.

Matthew ascended the staris and walked back to the room he previously occupied along with a questionable friend and a coward. He kept quiet as usual while he untied the ropes binding Francis. The French man, for his part, remained eerily quiet as well until the both decended the stairs to leave the house. Once outside, the older man leaned towards Matthew to state lowly in his ear, "Listen up. If you want to continue being friends with Gilbert Bielschmidt, you need to know about his past."

* * *

**A / N :/ **First of all, the reason I used some human names and some country names is because Matthew only knows the names of his own side (except for a few exceptions).  
Second of all, Diego (Cuba) and Gupta (Egypt) are members of the Allies. I know they weren't prominent countries in world war 2 but the Allies need more members.  
Lastly, I know it's been forever since my last update and I'm soooo sorry. Shit got busy. Anyways, I'll be on spring break in a week so I promise you another chapter soon. Unfortunately I haven't written it yet.  
Till then, peace. Also, I don't own Hetalia.


	9. Chapter 9

Francis had kept his mouth shut after that. Despite Matthew asking and pleading with him, Francis refused to divulge the information his little brother was so desperate for that night.

"I've been held hostage for the past half a day." He reasoned with the smaller boy next to him. "I've had my life threatened several times tonight, once I thought I was a goner for sure! Have a little sympathy for someone in my situation!"

Matthew, of course, held no sympathy for him. "Your husband tackled Germany with a bad arm. Alfred got shot in the leg. And you're the one who had the toughest time." The Canadian mumbled under his breath. He picked up his pace and trudged along the sidewalk, heading home.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Francis asked, a little incensed. Both of them remained silent for the rest of their walk.

Yao, to everyone's surprise, stayed the night at the Bonnefoy household. Gupta had left after dropping Arthur off and Diego had gone straight to his own house after the fight - while he was an Ally, he wasn't particularly close with any of the other members, save Matthew. It could be argued, of course, that Matthew was the only reason he was in the gang after all. Diego, though they didn't talk a lot, was actually a close friend of Matthew's, and one of the few that he had. The instant he'd found out that his wavy blonde friend was a member in dangerous gang, he'd joined in. The Cuban man also instantly regretted it the second he'd met the leader of the Allies, but for Matthew's sake he'd kept his mouth shut and his fights with Alfred to a minimum.

Even though it was after midnight, the 5 members were finding it hard to sleep. Matthew had made hot cocoa (every cup sans the Canadian's had been spiked with rum by their respective drinker) and they spent the night in the sitting room playing poker to calm frayed nerves. At some point Francis and Arthur had gone indiscreetly into the laundry room. The noises issuing forth were unpleasant, and while Yao blissfully ignored them, Alfred made gagging noises at every breathy moan, and Matthew tried not to cry in embarrasment.

After finishing poker (which Yao won, despite Alfred calling him a cheater) Matthew excused himself and decided to call it a night. It was going on 4 in the morning and Matthew was sick of hearing Alfred say that his wound had reopened with every shake of the dryer. Alfred, unfortunately not taking the hint, had followed his almost-twin up the small staircase and into his bedroom. While Mattie blissfully kept his ill words to himself, he wished rapidly in his head that Alfred would go away.

The purple eyed teen let out a weary sigh and pulled back the comforter of his bed. The American instantly took this as his cue to climb in, justifying it with an 'I don't want to be alone tonight'. While normally Matthew would insist to the man that ghosts weren't real and there was nothing to be afraid of, tonight Matthew let it slide and climbed into the other side of his double bed. It was a little small, but he'd make do. Though Alfred was good at hiding it, Matthew had become quite good at reading his brother and knew that Alfred was very upset with the night's events. After all, Alfred and Ivan had never liked each other, but betrayal was a very personal blow to his brother more than anyone else. Besides that, the poor guy had been shot, and while it was nothing too serious, he'd had to ruin a perfectly good pair of pants to stop the bleeding and had taken almost as many painkillers as Arthur had after his burn. So dejectedly Matthew removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand, telling himself he'd have to get Alfred's from downstairs for him in the morning. Otherwise the American would hurt his leg trying to blindly feel his way down the stairs.

Not long after Matthew's eyes had adjusted to the now-darkness did he notice the reflection of blue eyes next to him. "What?" He wispered, a little offended that his brother would so openly stare.

"I heard gunfire in that room you were in." Alfred stated it so bluntly. He was always like that, for as long as Matthew had know him. Sraight to the point. "I can't believe you actually pulled the trigger."

Matthew snorted lightly. He couldn't believe he'd done it either.

"Look dude." Alfred continued, his eyes sliding down to look away from the other's face. "I guess what I wanna say is... you saved lives back there. I mean, you stopped us from charging into that house, you helped when that alarm went off, and Francis might be dead if you hadn't had the guts to shoot at Prussia. I mean, I knew the guy back when I'd had that big fight with Arthur, he'd helped me straighten my punch. So I know he's damn scary. You did good." Alfred's eyes locked back with Matthew's own purple ones as he awkwardly blurted out, "The Allies are lucky to have you."

Matthew, dumbfounded, simply nodded. His brother, having nothing more to say, turned his head in the other direction and let out a deep breath. They both fell asleep shortly after.

The next day was spent in quiet recuperation. Yao took his leave shortly after bringing everyone a Chinese breakfast from God knows where. Alfred forcibly ordered everyone around, demanding food and saying that sleep had frozen the muscles in his leg and he couldn't move. This, of course, meant that he was stuck in Matthew's bed. It wasn't until Arthur had told him off, exclaiming "I wasn't this obnoxious when I was injured!", that the athlete had finally shut up. Even then he was back to whining after an hour, telling Matthew he was hungry and that Francis should make him food.

Matthew had sweetly asked Arthur to make him scones instead. Oh sweet revenge.

His biological brother spent the day dramatically telling his lover about the time he'd spent frightened for his life, tied to a chair with a maniac lusting for his blood. He didn't once mention Matthew or how he'd saved him.

Furious at being treated as if he was Alfred's slave and had never been a part of the fight at all, Matthew had left after lunch to spend his time at the beach. He needed the waves and the sand and the sun right now, and he needed some time to figure out why he seemed to be so unimportant and invisible in the lives of his brothers. Sure, Alfred had told him last night what an asset he was, but that was once in the 3 odd years that Matthew had known him. And anyways, the self-proclaimed hero seemed to have already forgotten his confession last night, instead using him for a comfortable bed and company.

And, he told himself lightly, if he was lucky he might even see Gilbert on the sand.

Matthew knew he should be ashamed, hoping he might meet his albino friend so soon after having a huge fight the day before. He also knew that they couldn't go anywhere with the relationship they had - they'd never be more. In fact, they should probably be less. The quiet boy probably shouldn't be seeing Gilbert at all. But he couldn't help it. He was attracted to the guy, he'd admitted this to himself some weeks before. And he genuinely enjoyed the other's company, besides when he was trying to slit his brothers' throats.

While Matthew knew that this relationship was no good and perhaps very dangerous, he also knew that it didn't matter to Gilbert that they were on opposite sides of a gang war. This mattered to Matthew quite a lot, actually, but he found Gilbert's sentiment extremely touching. And he was a little ashamed with himself that this was so important to him and he couldn't let go, yet Gilbert was willing to risk a lot for a simple friendship.

Matthew sat waiting for quite a while, hoping that Gilbert would show up. He watched the coulds and turned these thoughts over in his mind. And although staring at puffy condensed water vapor with crashing waves to drown out his attention actually wasted a large portion of the Canadian's afternoon, he eventually admitted to himself that the silverette did not share the same plans for a day at the beach as Matthew did. So slowly, Matthew picked himself up of the sand, brushed the dirt off his shorts, heaved a great yawn, and went home to his ungrateful brothers.

* * *

**A/N :/ **I promise Gilbert's past is in the next chapter. I just wanted to throw in a filler until then.  
I hadn't planned on Albert being so sweet in this chapter, but there are a lot of Hetalia pairings I support and AmeriCan is one of them.  
I also have a confession to make. I haven't watched any recent hetalia episodes or read a hetalia fanfic in over a year and a half. So... sorry if I'm rusty on anything.  
So anyways, I don't own Hetalia despite my best intentions blah blah blah.


	10. Chapter 10

Antonio had shown up the next day, worrying over his Lovi and hanging around like a mother hen.

Gilbert himself was very unhappy. Antonio was his friend, but he was so obsessed with the bad-tempered Italian that it was annoying to see them together. Instead the pale man moped around on his living room couch while his brother flitted around, dusting hutches and mantlepieces. Perhaps he was being cynical, but everyone was annoying him today. He knew his brother got compulsive with cleaning when he was upset about something, but Gilbert had his own problems and didn't really want to talk to _Westen_ about Ivan. Just thinkng about the Russian made his blood boil.

So instead he diverted his attention to a more deserving party: or particularly a Canadian highschooler. Matthew was in his senior year and would be out of school soon, and Gilbert had planned on taking advantage of that at his first chance. Of course, that was impossible now that both Francis and Mattie wanted nothing to do with him.

The confrontation last night had not at all gone as Gilbert had expected. Of course, he'd never expected Matthew to be the one he'd have to fight that night; perhaps England or that new Cuban kid. But when Matthew had shown up in the doorway, Gilbert had lost his resolve to win. All intentions of killing Francis and other Allied members had flown out the window the second his ruby eyes had met violet ones. Hell, when the Frenchman had provoked him he'd even dropped his knife and instead opted with a more personal punch to the face. The switchblade was so precious to him and yet with his Birdie in the room, it had become something so offending it was abandoned like nothing. This perturbed him greatly.

It was with this realization that Gilbert decided he should probably talk to Antonio. If anyone knew about unrequitted love, it was that man. The Spaniard was a neutral party anyways, keeping friendships intact with both him and Francis. Perhaps he could get a word in with the others if he understood the situation.

Of course, tearing Antonio from Lovino was a feat few could pull off. Gilbert, however, prided himself in his abilities, and after much whining and lots of yelling, the brunette was sat across from the albino on the couch. Ludwig, thankfully, left the room after fluffing the throw pillows. After making sure his brother was gone and couldn't hear any of the ensuing conversation, Gilbert got straight to the point. "I'm in love."

Antonio, to his credit, took this information well and simply stared. His mouth slowly dropped open and he eventually stated, "You're joking."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and scoffed. Really, was this so hard to believe? "I am not. I'm in love."

"Gilbert, you can't fall in love with a mirror." Antonio remarked, giving him a look that spelled dead seriousness. Honestly, was this so hard to believe? Sure, Gilbert knew he was a jerk and that he might have a slight ego complex, and that he also was a little perverted in the head when it came to both sex and violence, but he wasn't always an unfeeling asshole. Just most of the time.

"Goddamnit Toni, I'm talking about someone other than myself." Gilbert responded resolutely. The green-eyed man would believe him, once he realized just how deep this feeling ran. "It's... a bit of a problem. It's Canada."

Antonio was silent for a few seconds, filing through his memory. Eventually he sighed, looking apologetic as he admitted, "I'm afraid I don't recall who that is."

"He's an Ally."

This got Antonio's attention. He started forward on the couch, a noise of exclamation protruding from his mouth. "You're... oh man." Antonio shook his head back and forth and fixed his gaze on his old friend. He searched for a minute before finding what he was looking for. "You're serious." Antonio's eyes roamed over him for a few seconds more before he continued, "You're fucked, man. Who else knows?"

Gilbert sighed and reluctantly admitted, "No one. Maybe Francis. He's not happy about our friendship."

"Ok I hate to be that guy but Gil, I have no idea who this person is." This was said ruthlessly, and Gilbert found himself a little angry. Nobody seemed to know Mattie.

"His name's Matthew Williams. Looks like Alfred only not really, his hair's longer and a little wavier. Darker eyes." Gilbert explained, daydreaming for a second of the other's eyes. He loved them, they were so unusual, much like Gilbert's own. "And before you ask, they're not twins."

Antonio, still obviously lost, shrugged his shoulders and stood up from the couch. "Sorry, still no idea. I dunno if I can help you, man. I would say... give it up."

If Gilbert wasn't angry with Antonio's lack of knowledge about his own best friend's younger brother, he was angry at his last statement. "How can you possibly say that?" Gilbert spat, surging forward in his seat. "You still flirt with Lovino even though he rejects you daily! And yet you think you have the balls to tell me to just give up on this? No way. No fucking way."

Antonio held his hands up in surrender and backed up a step, right into the couch. "Sorry! But seriously, if Ludwig finds out about this he's not gonna be happy."

Gilbert's thoughts went intstantly to his little brother. The blonde loved him, that was for sure. They fought a lot and most of the time annoyed each other, but Ludwig still looked up to him. Infact, the German's unending devotion to him made Gilbert breifly reconsider his feelings for a certain Canadian. He'd known Mattie for 3 months, and that might be stretching it a little. There was no way he felt at all the way Ludwig did for him, and he'd known Ludwig his whole life.

But then he thought of Matthew's eyes, lips, and smile. And he knew what he wanted.

* * *

"I met him in gradeschool, when we were just stupid children. Gilbert wasn't very popular, I was... too frivilous, and Antonio talked to anything that moved. We all became friends easily." Francis started, sipping at the tea his husband had made for them while they chilled out in the sitting room. The laundry was, as always, running next door. Matthew had anxiously begged his older brother to tell him about Gilbert, and Francis couldn't say no to his little brother's adorable pouting face. "Gilbert, well... he's albino, you know? You can imagine childhood wasn't easy for him. People back home weren't as laid back as everyone here. And they weren't particularly nice to people who weren't exactly like them."

Matthew felt a pang of sadness in his heart. It must not have been easy for someone like Gilbert. "So anyways," Francis continued, gesturing with his cup, "He didn't take it well. I mean, for the most part he ignored the insults, but the occasional outburst gave away how much it really bothered him." Francis's eyes turned down to stare into his tea. "Me and Antonio didn't really pay it much attention though. I mean, he seemed fine, most of the time."

His eyes stayed on his beverage as he went on, a pained expression on his face. "He attempted suicide at 14. I never heard any of the details about how, but I heard he was found by his little brother. After that, well... Gilbert had always been brash and violent, which got worse after therapy. But Ludwig changed greatly. They were really close as kids, Gilbert looked after Ludwig more than their own father did. So you can imagine finding your role model broken and bleeding on the floor at the young age of 10 must have been traumatizing. And after getting out of the detention center, Gilbert didn't really... turn for the better. He became bitter, and developed this superiority complex. The Psychiatrist said it was to cover up how inferior he really felt, but you know how he is. He truly believes he's awesome and the world is at his fingertips. A year after his _attempt,_ he formed a gang. I'm sure you've heard of the Teutonic Knights." Matthew had. They were well known back in his hometown for their acts against the law, which they considered justified for their mistreatment. "He led that gang for 1 and a 1/2 years. At the same time, Ludwig started getting into fights at school."

Matthew was surprised at this. Sure, Germany led the Axis and was pretty ruthless when it came to stealing Allied territory, but he was a calm and calculating kind of guy. He'd gotten angry at times, but it was always to keep order. Francis rose his eyebrows at his little brother's reaction. "Listen, don't let Germany fool you." He said seriously, looking his little brother in the eyes. "There's a lot of hatred in him for a regular 16 year old kid. You've seen him angry, but you've never seen him when he's really in action. The kid's ruthless, especially when it comes to his brother."

"...Speaking of ruthless, I need some suggestions." Francis said, perking up. He leaned forward a bit, his mouth getting close to Matthew's ear as he whispered, "Arthur refuses to try BDSM with me. And if we can't do that, how else am I supposed to spice up our sex life?" Matthew sat stunned for a while, and eventually he blinked twice before getting up and walking towards the door.

"Wait!" Francis cried, outstreching his arm towards the Canadian. "I'm sorry! Come back!"

Matthew settled back down on the couch and gave his brother a look of reproach before he let Francis go on. "Sorry." The Frenchman apologized again. "Anyways... all those fights Ludwig got into his freshman year were for his brother. Gilbert didn't know this, of course. As far as he knew or cared, Ludwig was turning out like him. When he did find out though, he didn't waste any time. He gathered the Knights and marched straight to the household of Ludwig's last enemy. Ludwig followed, insisting he had to be there. They couldn't fight the kid, he was underage and besdies that in the hospital because of Ludwig, so Gilbert took on the older brother: his senior by 4 years. Gil didn't know until too late, but apparently the guy had called for help from a gang in the city over. What was supposed to be a gangbang turned into a brawl."

The boy across from Francis flushed. Gangbang? They were going to beat and then rape the guy? While this shouldn't have been a surprise, it kind of was. The Teutonic Knights were filled mostly with ex-convicts, people who'd either been to jail or some juvenile detention center, his albino friend apparently included. Rape probably wasn't out of the question for some of them.

"The gang over didn't know who they were fighting. The Knights ripped them apart. However, at some point one of the members on guard for Gilbert's brother had deserted Ludwig. Traded his own safety for the kid's. After the fight, when his little brother was unaccounted for, Gilbert flew off the handle." Francis's eyes roamed over Matthew's body, judging how much information to divulge. "Let's say this. Gilbert's a creative guy, and at the time he'd wanted to try out water torture. Another member stood up for the victim, and Gilbert slashed him to bits. He'd murdered 2 guys and made a game of it; the gang wasted no time kicking their leader out. They may have been convicts, but they stuck together. Gilbert's actions were a serious offense to them."

"Ludwig was found the next day with some lesser known member of the other gang, Ivan. Yes, our Ivan. Ludwig was unharmed, but Ivan refused to let him go without some form of punishment. So Gilbert traded himself. Ludwig went home that day, but Gil was unnaccounted for for months. When he finally turned up, he took legal custody of Ludwig and ran here. Antonio and I visited him from time to time, and over the past 3 years that they've been here, I met and married Arthur. You know that at the time, Alfred, Arthur, and Yao held influence over this city." Matthew did know this. Alfred wasn't exactly angry or violent, but he had a hero complex that sometimes went out of control. Everyone in the city knew him and respected his authority.

"We weren't the only ones who followed Gilbert here, though. Ivan stalked Gilbert for a while, and finally found him here last year. Ludwig, of course, knew Ivan and everything he'd supposedly done to Gilbert. He didn't like being seperated from his brother for so long, and he detested the state at which Gilbert had returned in. I hate to say that you and Alfred are the reason for all this fighting, but when Ludwig saw you 2 playing hockey with Ivan 11 months ago, he quickly formed the Axis and declared war on Alfred and his friends."

The last statement caught Matthew off guard. He was the reason? That simply wasn't possible. Surely Ludwig had overreacted. But then again, Arthur had nearly lost his arm - Matthew had heard that Prussia had lit him on fire in a sick bout of curiosity and fun. Alfred and Francis had nearly lost their heads. If Gilbert had been harmed and Ludwig was really as fond as Francis described, was it really that far of a stretch that he'd be so enraged?

Just thinking about what Gilbert had done to his brothers terrified him. Matthew had experienced first hand a side of Gilbert that made him absolutely livid and scared stiff. But last night was so different from that. Last night Gilbert had seemed scared himself. And all the times before that other than the time in the alleyway, Gilbert had been fun and carefree.

Still, Gilbert was a murderer and a psychopath. His personality seemed unstable, and while Matthew felt safe at the moment, he wasn't guarenteed to stay on solid ground forever. Nobody knew when the next thing would set Gilbert off.

Matthew understood why Francis wanted him to stay away. And he decided that he would.

* * *

**A/N :/ **So, while PruCan used to be my OTP, I started liking Germancest more after I started this story. It's just so much more dirty and angsty. Sorry.  
So what I'm trying to say is, take that as brotherly devotion or more. Whatever you want, this story is still PruCan.  
Anyways, I think I'm done with disclaiming. Everyone gets the idea.  
And um... my determination to continue this story is waning. Just so you know.


End file.
